


Your Halo's Full of Fire

by sealdog



Series: Ten Ways To Have A Threesome: #5 will shock you! [1]
Category: Borderlands
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Mild Daddy Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, implied jack/tim, implied one-sided tim/rhys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 17:11:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6865555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sealdog/pseuds/sealdog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Man, Rhys wonders what it’s like being Jack’s body double. To look like Jack, spend all that time with Jack…</p><p>Just as he’s thinking that, the body double glances up, and looks right at Rhys.</p><p>It takes him a while to gather up the courage to look back in that direction, but eventually, he looks over again, not really sure if he’s hoping for the body double to still be staring at him, or to have lost interest.</p><p>When he looks over though, this time, it’s <i>Handsome Jack</i> himself staring at Rhys.</p><p>--</p><p>Rhys is at a bar when he catches Timothy's eye. Jack doesn't like to share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a comment on an askreddit post. lots of liberties taken with the original comment, and also with canon. split into 3 chapters bc i did the moxxi pov bit for a prompt on tumblr and i liked it enough to fit it in between the other bits, i guess.
> 
> unbeta-ed, lmk if i missed typos and shit, or if i need to tag anything else.

“Bro, help me out, does my tie look okay?” Rhys squints in the mirror. It looks kind of wonky to him, but he’s tied and retied it so many times that he really, really doesn’t want to touch it any more. God, he wished people would get with the times already and let the love of clip-on ties into their lives.

“Ugh, no, you tied it wrong- come here, I’ll fix it for you.” Vaughn turns away from where he’s buffing his shoes, and beckons Rhys over. “It’s really not that hard, bro, seriously. Don’t pout at me, you know it’s true.”

“I’m not- I’m not _pouting_ ,” Rhys protests, bending a little so it’s easier for Vaughn.

“Uhhuh.” Vaughn settles the newly tied tie into place, and pats Rhys’ chest. “Man, I hope you’re right about this party. I can’t believe we’re sacrificing our Saturday gaming night for this, especially not when we just got our hands on that vintage copy of Shady Souls.”

Rhys checks his tie in the mirror, mildly annoyed that it looks perfect, now that Vaughn has tied it. “Yeah, I know, but Yvette said that she overheard her boss mentioning that Handsome Jack himself might be at the party, and you know we’re gonna need all the connections we can get if we wanna move past the 19th floor.”

Vaughn sighs, slumping over. “Yeah, yeah I know. Just…god I hope Handsome Jack is in a good mood for the thing. I heard he got annoyed at a board member who was, quote unquote _breathing too fast_ and the entire meeting got suspended so Jack could yell the guy into breathing at an appropriate pace.”

“Really?” Rhys pauses. “What I heard was that he got so annoyed that he just had the guy thrown into R &D.”

Vaughn shudders, before straightening up. “Well, either way. C’mon, are you done primping?”

“I’m not _primping_! But yeah, I’m ready. Shall we?”

\---

Despite all his bravado and plans to socialize and network, once they get to the bar, Rhys finds himself holed up at a corner table with Vaughn, too nervous to actually go up and talk to anybody. For one, Yvette’s intel had been right, totally, completely right. Handsome Jack himself is _right there_ , which, honestly, Rhys had been hoping for, but he hadn’t actually thought of what he would do now that he’s face to face with the big boss.

Well. Sort of face to face. More like Rhys hiding in his corner with Vaughn while Jack and his entourage of hangers on take up all the air in the room from their position at the VIP booths.

Rhys sighs longingly, fiddling with the straw in his drink as he watches. Right now, Jack’s seated right in the center of the booth, arms spread wide and relaxed as he listens to Henderson, the VP of Securities Propaganda, leans forward and earnestly gestures while he talks. As Rhys watches, Jack barks out a laugh, the sharp planes of his masked face moving fluidly as he laughs with his whole body, slapping one hand down onto his thigh.

God, he’s so _handsome_.

“Earth to Rhys,” Vaughn murmurs at his side. When Rhys looks over, Vaughn raises his eyebrows meaningfully. “Stare too much at the sun and he might gouge your eyes out.”

Scowling, Rhys looks down at his drink. “I know, I know. It’s just- it’s _weird_ , getting to see him so up close and personal, you know?”

“Weird and _terrifying_ ,” Vaughn corrects.

Well, he’s not wrong. Exhilarating too, though.

“Anyway, we should probably…make a few rounds? Not where Handsome Jack is, of course, but I think I see Jordan over there with some of the accounting higher ups. Might go over and introduce myself and all.” Vaughn jerks his chin over to the table he’s talking about.

“Yeah, yeah that sounds good.” Rhys looks around for anybody from his department. “Ugh, I see Vasquez, schmoozing it up with Davison and co. Eurgh.”

“Ugh,” Vaughn echoes, making a face. “Oh, you wanna hear something hilarious though?” His voice takes on a conspiratorial tone.

Rhys leans in closer, intrigued.

Vaughn lowers his voice even more. “O’Neill from human resources says that Vasquez goes for weekly full body waxes, and that every time, they remove enough body hair to stuff a small _pillow_.”

“Oh, god, _why_ ,” Rhys, torn between groaning in horror and laughing, gets struck with the mental image of Vasquez lying there covered in wax as they strip the hair off him, and ends up laughing at the _delightful_ mental image of Vasquez in pain. “Oh, oh my god,” he gasps, trying to catch his breath.

“ _Right_?” Vaughn sits back, looking incredibly smug. “I mean, she could’ve been exaggerating, but I like to think Vasquez goes through weekly pain for his stupid vanity.”

Rhys wipes at his eyes with the napkin from his drink, laughter still bubbling out of him. “Oh, that just made my day, thanks buddy.”

“No problem, bro.” Vaughn raises his glass to Rhys in a toast. “Okay, I’m gonna go over and make friendly, what about you?”

“Mm, I’ll wait till Vasquez heads off before I go over, I think.” Rhys makes a face. “I have the feeling he’ll spoil whatever chances I had if I go over now. Good luck though, I’ll save our table for us or something.”

“Alright. See you in a bit!” Vaughn hops off his tall stool, and heads over to where the other accountants are.

Rhys watches after him fondly, until Vaughn gets swallowed up by the crowd of accountants. Sighing, Rhys finishes up his drink, and contemplates heading back to the bar to get another. Everything’s free flow for tonight, courtesy of Jack’s generosity, and he’s torn between the temptation of free drinks, versus not getting drunk and making a fool of himself in front of his superiors. Okay, he’s only had two drinks so far, one more should be good, and then he’ll switch to juice or something.

Making sure his jacket is hanging over his chair to stake his claim on it, he heads over to the bar. To his mild disappointment, he gets served not by the extremely attractive and intriguing looking woman in the hat, but by one of the CL4P-TP bots, so once he gets his drink, he doesn’t linger, heads straight back to his table.

Vasquez is still being a waste of space at the table Rhys wants to go to, so Rhys plays with his drink, watches the crowd, and tries not to stare too much at Handsome Jack’s table. As he’s completely absolutely not staring in that direction, Jack’s body double rejoins the table, two drinks in hand.

Man, Rhys wonders what it’s like being Jack’s body double. To look like Jack, spend all that time with Jack…

Just as he’s thinking that, and admiring the way Jack’s body double looks _so much_ like Jack, the body double glances up, and looks right at Rhys. Startled, Rhys doesn’t look away immediately, like he probably should, and they stare at each other for a long moment.

Then Rhys recollects himself, and looks away, embarrassed to be caught staring and fervently hoping that he’s not gonna get kicked out for being an embarrassing fanboy or something. It takes him a while to gather up the courage to do so, but eventually, he looks over again, not really sure if he’s hoping for the body double to still be staring at him, or to have lost interest.

When he looks over though, this time, it’s _Handsome Jack_ himself staring at Rhys, while the body double stares down at the table.

Rhys feels his heartbeat accelerate, and a flush rise on his face, even as he tries to look away, only to feel his gaze being dragged back. He’s not imagining things, is he? No, Handsome Jack is definitely staring _right_ at him, watching him with a narrow gaze.

Shit, shit shit shit shit oh god, Rhys fucked up. Somehow, he’d gone and fucked up really badly. This party had been a _terrible_ idea. 

Breaking his gaze away, heart still thumping and hands shaky from the sudden, terrifying need to get out of here, right now, Rhys slides off his seat, gathering up his things and bringing up Vaughn’s number on his phone. 

Before he can even get three steps away from the table and towards the exit, he’s stopped by the presence of a broad chest in the middle of his path. When Rhys drags his gaze up from where he’s frantically texting Vaughn, he sees a very familiar pair of eyes. 

“Hey, kiddo.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> moxxi pov interlude, orig posted on tumblr. overlaps with the ending.

Moxxi doesn’t actually bartend most days, now that she’s got bigger and better businesses to tend to. She leaves that sorta thing to her underlings, and only does it for special occasions, or when she feels like it.

That being said, she’s glad she at the bar today, because it’s crowded, more crowded than usual, and that was _before_ Handsome Jack and his usual crowd showed up. Not like she actually likes having to see his smug, ridiculous face or anything, especially not since he got the mask. Eurgh. It creeps her out, and she almost pities whoever has to sleep next to that face at night.

Or not, because Jack is a _jackass_ who never actually lets anybody stay the night, and no, she’s not bitter, she’s genuinely, completely glad that she had the foresight to break up with him before he got all creepy and megalomaniacal.

Still, money’s money, and Jack has a _lot_ of money to throw around. The crowd looks mostly mid-level Hyperion corporate, so it’s probably one of those shindigs Jack likes to do to pretend he’s “one of the people”, super approachable, totally not the kind of guy who would airlock you and your extended family in a heartbeat.

Speaking of the devil, sort of, his double sidles up to the bar, darting an apologetic look at her and licking his lips nervously as he orders. “One more pint of the light beer for me, and another whiskey neat for Jack?”

“Coming right up,” Moxxi says, and does absolutely nothing to get the drinks. Instead, she leans forward, crossing her arms. His face turns gratifyingly red, even if his eyes manfully refrain from too much staring. “Oh, _Timothy_. I forgot how sweet you are. What have you gotten yourself into, hon?”

He looks away, flushing all the way to the tips of his ears, which, cute. “I don’t wanna talk about it, ma’am. Can I please have the drinks?”

“Mm. Ma’am. That’s cute, sugar.” Moxxi sighs, and relents. “Alright, I’ll get you your drinks, and I won’t even put cyanide into Jack’s, because I’m professional like that.”

“Thank you,” Timothy says, finally making eye contact to give her a weak smile.

As Moxxi busies herself with pouring out another pint from the tap, she watches the way Timothy’s eyes flicker around the room nervously, even if his body language is identical to Jack’s, broad and expansive and all swaggery with ego. It’s not the first time she’s wondered about his relationship to Jack, because first of all, why anybody would willingly subject themselves through many (and apparently horribly invasive) surgeries to end up looking like Jack is one thing, but then there’s the whole weird thing with how Jack now wears a mask, but Timothy doesn’t, so everybody can tell Tim’s not Jack. It’s weird, is all she’s saying.

Timothy’s eyes seem to go back to a corner of the room more often than not, and as she eases the pint glass upright and levels the excess foam off with a scraper, she looks over to see what exactly has caught his attention. There are two young men in the corner, one tall and slim, and one much shorter one, both dressed in the sort of corporate office wear that screams “middle management”. Nothing too exciting, especially not with this crowd, she thinks. Then the taller man laughs at something his friend says, leaning back and laughing with his whole body, moving with a careless sort of grace, and she thinks, _oh_.

“He’s cute,” she tells Timothy as she sets the beer down next to him, and goes to pour out Jack’s whiskey. “You gonna ask him out?”

“What? I- what, no- I mean, _what_?” Timothy stammers, straightening up out of Jack’s slouch into a more rigid posture. “Who said anything about asking him out! I don’t even know who- what are you _talking_ about?”

“Uhhuh.” Moxxi leans over the bar so she can peer at the mysterious lanky stranger Timothy’s obviously set his sights on. “Better not let Jack see you staring though,” she says quietly, not looking at Timothy. “I don’t think he likes to share.”

“No,” Timothy replies, bitterness turning Jack’s voice oddly poignant. “No, he doesn’t.”

Despite what _some_ might say, Moxxi knows when to leave well alone, so she simply hums, and pushes his drinks over to him. “Good luck, Timothy,” she says, with complete sincerity and sympathy. Poor boy.

Timothy leaves with a quiet smile at her, because the boy knows his manners, and she turns back to mixing fruity cocktails for the increasingly inebriated crowd.

An hour later, as the party is winding down, and most of the people left have clustered themselves into the booths, Moxxi looks over, wondering where Timothy’s young man went to. To her surprise, neither he, nor his short friend, are at their table.

Frowning, she looks around. It takes her a while to spot him minus his short friend, seated in the VIP area, right next to Jack himself. Raising her eyebrows at that, and wondering if Timothy was around, she keeps watching. Something about the way the mysterious man is flushed and leaning against Jack seems kind of odd, not like he’s drunk, more like he’s…

Then Jack leans in, and even from this distance, she can see clearly how he bites at the man’s ear, and the man shudders, flushed lips parting, and oh wow okay, Moxxi’s all for semi-public sex, hell, she’s had sex in that very same booth herself, but _really, Jack_?!

Frowning, she’s about to head over and kick them out, for the sake of hygiene, if not Timothy’s sake, when Timothy himself makes an appearance, sliding up from under the booth to sit on the other side of Jack, wiping his mouth and flushed nearly as red as the young man is.

_Seriously?!_

Scowling, she heads over, and slams her hands down on the table, not even able to enjoy the way Tim jumps and makes a panicked little sound.

“Jack. Out. _Now_.”

Infuriatingly, Jack doesn’t even seem fazed. He smirks at her, one hand lifting from where it’d been curled possessively over the nameless young man’s hands, and going to smooth back his stupid hair with its stupid, hideous grey streak.

“Moxxi! Long time no see, how’s those balloon tits of yours doing?” He doesn’t wait for her to answer, stands up and pulls both Timothy and the other man up with him. Despite herself, Moxxi can’t help glancing down, and yep, there’s a wet patch there. “We were just leaving anyway, no need to get your panties all up in a bunch. Ta-ta! Heh, _ta-ta_ , I’m a genius.”

He pushes Timothy out of the booth carelessly, pulling the other man out as he gets out, and slings an arm around them both as he exits.

Both Timothy and the other man turn to give Moxxi apologetic looks, and Timothy even mouths a “sorry!” but she’s too busy coming up with ways to poison Jack to care.

God. What an _asshole_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter where the explicit rating comes into play. heh, comes. heh heh.

Rhys doesn’t realize he’s backing away until the table bumps up against his back, and he’s forced to stop.

“What, what’s the matter? Not _scared_ of ol’ Handsome Jack, are ya?” Jack, holy shit, _Handsome Jack_ , steps closer, a grin spreading on his face.

“Uh. No, nope.” Rhys answers, when Jack seems content to stand uncomfortably close and wait in silence. And by uncomfortably close, Rhys means that there’s practically only one inch between their bodies, even though Rhys is leaning back as subtly as he can. “Can I help you, uh, Mr. Handsome Jack, sir?”

“Ooh, Mr. Handsome Jack, I _like_ that, very nice.” Jack steps back, to Rhys’ relief.

Unfortunately, Rhys’ relief is short-lived, because then Jack lands a huge, heavy hand on Rhys’ shoulder, thumb pressing uncomfortably on the front of Rhys’ throat.

“I bet you’re _really_ confused right now,” Jack says, voice low and intimate, and oh god Rhys never thought he could be so terrified and so turned on at once. At least he doesn’t have a boner. Yet. “Bet you’re wondering what’s going on, and are you in trouble.”

Jack pauses expectantly, and continues only when Rhys nods minutely, not trusting himself to say anything.

“Don’t worry, pumpkin!” Jack’s voice goes back to its usual jovial loudness. “Come along, I want you to meet somebody. What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Uh. Rhys, sir.”

“ _Rhys_ , huh? Hm.”

Jack doesn’t say anything more as he guides Rhys towards the VIP booth with one unrelenting hand on Rhys’ neck. As they move through the crowded floor of the bar, Rhys feels the weight of stares from many directions, condescending ones, curious ones, and, oddly enough, _jealous_ looking ones?

At some point, they go past the accounting table, and Rhys makes panicked eye contact with Vaughn, who looks about as confused and worried as Rhys is feeling. He can’t exactly say anything though, not with the way Jack’s pressing him forwards inexorably, but he hopes his eyes convey enough confusion for Vaughn to understand that Rhys is about as lost as he is.

Finally, they reach the VIP booth, which has a prominently empty spot at the center, and Jack lets go of Rhys’ neck to slide into the empty spot, carelessly climbing over Hyperion bigwigs Rhys has only ever seen in the company magazine before. He flings one arm around the body double next to him, and says, “Rhys, Rhysie my boy, I want you to meet my favorite body double. Say hi, go on.”

Rhys waves one hand a little awkwardly, flushing a little at the way the body double stares at him before looking away, clearly flustered.

“Hi. I’m Rhys,” he offers, when the body double continues not to make eye contact.

“Hey, other-me, don’t be rude.” Jack tightens the arm around the double, and Rhys winces in sympathy.

“Hi Rhys,” the double says, Jack’s voice sounding strange in a monotone. “Nice to meet you.”

He makes fleeting eye contact with Rhys, before he’s looking back down at the table again.

Jack groans, loud and dramatic, and rolls his eyes before taking his arm back from the double’s shoulders. “God, do I have to do _everything_ around here? Alright, everybody not me or Rhysie over here, get out. Piss off. Go get drunk on my money or whatever.”

The rest of the booth clears out alarmingly quickly, till the VIP area is empty but for Rhys, Jack, and Jack’s double. At Jack’s enthusiastic beckoning, Rhys gingerly slides himself into the booth next to Jack, keeping what he thinks is a professional and safe distance, only to get yanked practically into Jack’s lap.

“Okay, _Rhys_ , here’s the thing. My buddy over here-” Jack grabs his double’s chin in a painful looking grip, and pulls him closer to face Rhys. Rhys on his part feels a twinge of sympathy for the double, who looks like he’s about to die of embarrassment right now. “He’s been staring at you allllll night. Now, he thinks I didn’t notice, but he forgets I have eyes like, _everywhere_. The thing is, I’m a generous boss who’s in a pretty good mood today, so I thought I’d do him a favor, and help him with the introductions.”

Rhys can’t help but raise his eyebrows, pleased and more than a little flattered that the double thinks he’s…cute, or good looking, or something. He smiles at the double, and is _immensely_ gratified when the double darts a tentative gaze up at him before returning the smile, small and kind of…cute, which is something Rhys had never thought he’d think about Jack’s face, but well.

“Now _that’s_ what I’m talking about!” Jack lets go of the double’s face and pats it approvingly. “Make a move! You’re _me_ , after all.”

The double pulls back to sit up in his seat, straightening the brown jacket he’s got on. “I wouldn’t have dragged him across the bar without buying him a drink first,” he says, sounding a lot more like Jack.

“Hah! Don’t get snappy with me, kiddo.” Jack laughs, but there’s an edge of warning in there. “Fine. Go get him a drink, and get one for me too. What’re you having, pumpkin?” He directs the question to Rhys, who shakes his head.

“Um, just water’s fine for me, thank you.” Rhys definitely does _not_ want to be anything but completely stone cold sober for this, nope.

“What, are you kidding?” Jack snorts. “Get him a martini, with the good gin. You’ll love it, trust me.” He turns to Rhys, clearly dismissing his double, who grimaces, but makes his way out of the booth willingly enough.

“Okay, now that other-me is off getting us drinks, here’s the _real_ thing.” Jack bends in close, and Rhys prays to whatever higher powers there are that his heart doesn’t actually thump its way out of his mouth or something. “He’s _me_ , and he’s _mine_ , and I don’t like to freakin’ _share_.”

Oh, well shit.

Rhys pulls back, the fear and adrenaline from earlier making its return. “I-I’m sorry. I didn't know. I can leave?”

He doesn’t point out that Jack’s being very contradictory right now, saying he’s gonna do his double a favor, and then telling Rhys to fuck off. That’s because, unlike what Vaughn likes to joke about, Rhys actually does have a sense of self-preservation.

“Wait, what? Oh! _Ohhh_ no no no, pumpkin, you’re getting it all wrong!” Jack slings a heavy arm around Rhys’ shoulders, and pulls him in close, pressing his mouth against Rhys’ jaw _really intimately_ holy shit. “I’m completely willing to make exceptions when it comes to pretty toys, and well, one thing’s for sure, he has _damn_ good taste.”

Rhys, frozen where he is with Jack – Handsome Jack!!! – Jack’s mouth on his jaw, can’t think past the closeness, the warmth and smell of Jack real and present so close to him, but he’s pretty damn sure that he just got complimented by Jack, and wow, talk about dreams come true.

Just then, the double comes back with a tray of drinks, and there’s the quickest flash of a scowl as he takes in the way Jack’s pressed against Rhys, before his face goes back to blankness, and he places the tray down on the table carefully.

“Hey, you’re back!” Jack pulls away, and picks up the martini, handing it to Rhys, who takes it reluctantly. “Come on, both of you, drink up!”

Rhys hesitates, but both Jack and the double are watching him, their matched-mismatched eyes an intimidating pressure, and he takes a quick sip. To his surprise, it doesn’t taste alcoholic at all, just something sweet and light. Raising his eyebrows, he glances over to the double, who gives him a quick wink. Between them, Jack doesn’t seem to have noticed anything. Rhys takes a bigger sip, relieved and grateful both at once.

“As I was just telling Rhysie over here, sharing’s fun, once in a while.” Jack sets his glass down, and looks between Rhys and his double with a smug look on his face. “And I think this could be very, very fun.”

“Jack…” the double says warningly, frowning slightly as he looks between Rhys and Jack.

“What? Come on, don’t tell me you don’t want that pretty mouth on your dick.” Jack turns to Rhys, presses one thumb on Rhys’ chin. Rhys, too busy trying to digest the filthy compliment, doesn’t do anything to stop Jack from pressing Rhys’ mouth open.

Across Jack, the double turns red, even as his eyes go helplessly to where Jack’s thumb is now stroking Rhys’ lower lip. Absently, Rhys wonders if Jack blushes too, beneath the mask. Or further down. Something within him shivers at the possibility that he might actually get to find out for himself soon, if he plays his cards right.

“Or maybe _you_ want to get your mouth on _him_ ,” Jack says, eyes fixed on his double. When the double looks away, still red, something darkly satisfied crosses Jack’s face. “Nobody’s stopping you, you know. We’re in the VIP booth, and everybody else is off on the dance floor, having fun. If you wanted to, you could just slide right down, crawl between his legs, taste him all you like. I bet he has the prettiest cock, too.”

Rhys feels like he’s in some kind of dream or something, the way Jack’s filthy words are washing through him, the muffled thump of the bar’s music making the booth seem really small and private even though it really, really isn’t. He’s semi-hard in his pants, has been for a while now, but at that last bit, he can’t help but jerk slightly, holding in a moan as best as he can. It's not very effective.

“See? He likes it too, don’t you, Rhysie?” Jack gives him an approving once over, and slips his thumb into Rhys’ mouth. Rhys closes his lips around it instinctively, shivering at the idea that he’s got Handsome Jack’s thumb in his mouth right now, pressing against his tongue.

The double can’t seem to look away from Rhys, and Rhys gives him an encouraging smile from around Jack’s thumb, feeling kind of ridiculous, but also kind of too turned on to care. At that, the double leans forward, eyes still fixed on Rhys.

“You want this? You’re sure?” He asks, voice low and rough.

Rhys pulls off of Jack’s thumb, and nods jerkily. “Y-yeah I do, please.”

Between them, Jack rolls his eyes, and mutters “Oh my god just kiss him already” before grabbing the double by his collar and pulling him close enough for Rhys to kiss.

The double pauses, pushes back before he actually reaches Rhys, so Rhys is the one to reach forward and press his left hand to the double’s face, tilting it so he can press his mouth to his. He tastes like beer, something light, and his mouth is warm and gentle, tentative and exploratory against Rhys’.

Then something pulls Rhys away, and when he opens his eyes, startled, Jack’s masked face is in front of him.

“My turn,” he says, grinning as he pulls Rhys into a kiss that’s a lot more demanding and pushy than the double’s had been. When he pulls away, he looks incredibly satisfied, and pats Rhys’ cheek approvingly. “Not bad, not bad at all.”

Then he turns to the double, and pulls _him_ into a kiss, and wow, okay, Rhys is definitely saving that image for the spank bank. He resists the temptation to use his echo eye to literally save an image, because he’s sober enough to know that if he got caught, he’d be in real trouble.

When they pull apart, both their lips are red, and the double looks kind of dazed.

“Go on now, sweetheart,” Jack says, eyes dilated as he looks the double up and down. “Get down on your knees for us.”

The double obediently drops down, pushing aside the cloth of the table, and crawls to press himself against Rhys’ legs, pushing them apart.

Oh god, Rhys can’t believe this is happening.

He looks around the bar, but there’s a lot less people now, and nobody who’s left is even looking in their direction, all too busy having their own conversations and drinks. Rhys can feel his heart thumping, to fast to be in sync with the thump of the music’s bass, and he can’t believe he’s doing it, but he spreads his legs, lets the double in closer.

The double looks up, keeping eye contact with Rhys as he presses a reassuring kiss to Rhys’ inner thigh. Rhys can’t actually feel it, not through his slacks, but he feels reassured anyway.

“You can touch his hair if you like.” Jack leans his head on Rhys’ shoulder, and watches as the double unzips Rhys’ slacks, and pulls his erection – already more than halfway to full hardness – out of his briefs. “I _knew_ you’d have a pretty cock,” he murmurs, tilting his head so he can press a kiss to Rhys’ ear.

Rhys shakily brings his left hand up, pets tentatively at the double’s hair, then more firmly when the double looks up and gives Rhys a slow blink, like he’s giving permission.

“He likes it when you pull a little, but not too much, because he’s a big baby. Just a little.” Jack continues to murmur directions to the both of them, one hand sliding into the back of Rhys’ trousers to play idly with the sensitive skin at the small of Rhys’ back, and other hand going to tug at the double’s hair.

“Use both hands if you like,” Jack offers.

Rhys freezes. “I…don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says quietly, praying that he didn’t just screw things up.

“Why?” Jack asks, letting go of the double’s hair to grab at Rhys’ right hand. “Oh, right yeah, don’t want his hair getting caught in the grooves, smart thinking. Nice make by the way.”

And, surprisingly, that’s the last of it.

Jack lets go of Rhys’ hand, and goes back to petting at his double’s hair and whispering filthy things into Rhys’ ear, audible even over the booming music and murmur of people not five meters away.

“He’s good with his mouth, isn’t he. D’you like it when he uses his tongue, just like that? Yeah I bet that feels good. Makes you wanna just grab his face and choke him with your dick, am I right? He doesn’t like that though, likes to take things nice and _slow_. He can take you all the way down, go on, show Rhysie what you can do, that’s it, thaaat’s it, slow and steady, just like I taught you.”

Rhys grabs at Jack’s thigh with his right hand, squeezing his eyes shut and biting down on his lip to keep a moan in as the double sinks all the way down on him. Rhys can feel the way he’s swallowing around Rhys’ dick, the hot clenching sensations coupled with the way he’s moaning around Rhys’ cock making it really hard for Rhys to think, let alone think coherently.

Jack chuckles as he brings his hand up from Rhys’ pants and hooks it around Rhys’ waist, pulling him in to lean against Jack as Rhys shudders and tries not to lose himself in the sensations.

“It’s okay, kiddo, I got you, I got you.” Jack presses a kiss against Rhys’ temple, left hand rubbing reassuringly at Rhys’ hip even as his right hand goes to pull the double off Rhys’ cock. “One more time?”

The double nods, eyes glazed over as he sticks his tongue out and flicks it against the tip, and Rhys jerks, a high pitched whine escaping his teeth before he can stop it.

Jack laughs, and uses his grip on the double’s hair to guide him back down. The wet heat of his mouth on the cooling spit on his dick is so much, too much, and Rhys brings his flesh hand up to bite down on the moan that threatens to escape him.

“Mm, later, we’re going to wring all those sounds out of you when there’s nobody else around to hear them,” Jack promises, voice heavy and curling in Rhys’ dazed mind.

Rhys, for his part, can’t do anything but muffle his moans against his hand as the double goes back to sucking, hot skillful mouth moving on Rhys’ dick even as one gentle hand comes up to slide into Rhys’ briefs, play carefully with his balls.

“Yeah, we’re _definitely_ doing this again when we can all be fully naked,” Jack mutters, before tugging firmly at his double’s hair. “Okay, playtime’s over, come on now. Time to get serious.”

The double looks up, eyes watering, and nods before going back to sucking, and oh god, Rhys thought before was good, but- he can’t-

“That’s it, come on Rhysie, just let go, _come for daddy_.” Jack’s voice is warm and dark and authoritative, right before his teeth close around Rhys’ ear and bite down, hard, and Rhys- Rhys is coming, in the middle of a bar, down the throat of Handsome Jack’s double.

His hand had gone to clutch the edge of the table as he came, and at some point, Jack had pressed his own hand over Rhys’, large warm hand curled around Rhys’ and grounding him, and he thinks he may have been a little loud, but mostly he’s too busy trying not to be a jerk and thrust up into the double’s mouth.

The double seems to know instinctively when Rhys gets too sensitive, because he gives Rhys one last gentle suck before pulling off and tucking Rhys back into his pants carefully, even pulling the zipper up. Still dazed from his orgasm, Rhys doesn’t think before he reaches out and pats the double’s hair and face clumsily.

“Holy shit,” he says, voice a little slurred as he stares down at the double, who mostly looks really pleased and also kind of turned on himself.

“He’s good, right?” Jack’s voice is approving as he reaches down to wipe at the double’s chin. “Come on back up, kiddo.”

The double nods, and pushes himself out from beneath the table and back to his original place on Jack’s right.

Before anybody can say anything however, the attractive bartender from before suddenly appears, and slams her hands down on the table, glaring at Jack. Rhys feels like, normally, he might be startled, like how the double is currently startled, but he’s too busy feeling the aftershocks of his orgasm right now to actually be surprised at anything.

“Jack. Out. _Now_.”

Okay, maybe he’s a little bit surprised that anybody would speak to Jack like that.

Jack doesn’t seem fazed though. He merely smirks at her and runs a hand through his hair as he says, “Moxxi! Long time no see, how’s those balloon tits of yours doing? We were just leaving anyway.” He stands up, and pulls both Rhys and his double up and out of the booth with him. “No need to get your panties all up in a bunch. Ta-ta! Heh, _ta-ta_. I’m a genius.”

Jack slings an arm around both Rhys and the double, pulling them towards the exit without a glance back.

By then, Rhys has collected his wits enough to turn back and give the bartender an apologetic look, even as he’s fumbling for his phone to text Vaughn.

“Hey- hey, what’s that for, pumpkin? Do you need to go home for curfew or something?” Jack stops, right before the entrance, and glances down at where Rhys is clutching his phone.

“No!” Rhys says, blurting it out quickly, probably too quickly, going by Jack’s smirk. “I just- I came here with my friend, and I was gonna text him to tell him I’m leaving?”

“Fine. Come on, text faster, I wanna spend the car ride back making out with you two,” Jack says, waving a hand impatiently at Rhys.

Rhys texts faster than he’s ever texted before, a message to Vaughn that’s kind of incoherent, but he thinks he got most of the important bits.

“Done!” Rhys says, pocketing the phone and looking to Jack uncertainly.

Jack breaks off from where he’s been kissing his double, and wipes his mouth. “Good, that was quick,” he says. “By the way, I was right, you _do_ taste good.”

It takes Rhys a second to get it, and then he’s flushing and unable to look away from the double’s red and spit-slick lips.

“Aw, don’t get all shy on me now, Rhysie!” Jack cackles, and pushes Rhys towards his double. “Go on, taste yourself.”

Rhys’ hands hover uncertainly before they settle tentatively on the double’s shoulders, as broad as Jack’s and just as firm. The double smiles back at him, more confidently than before, and leans forward, and Rhys lets himself get pulled into a kiss, a really good, full-body one that has him curling his arms around the double’s neck and panting against his mouth.

Jack’s voice breaks into the kiss, and they pull apart to see him ducking into the back of a fancy looking car, calling out behind him as he goes.

“Come _on_ , kiddos! This dick ain’t gonna suck itself!”


End file.
